Living Simply, Moving Slowly, in a Quiet Polish Town

Over the past few weeks, I've been moving through a slower, heavier rhythm. Spending long days at home, broken only by short walks, sometimes puts me in a slightly melancholic mood. It feels as if everything slows down, not only nature, but me as well. That's why I appreciate the outdoors so much. Being able to walk by the lake, to stand in an open meadow, to feel the wind on my face. Nature soothes me, it regulates me, it recharges me in a way nothing else really can. Whenever the sun appears, and lately there hasn't been much of it, I instantly feel a little lighter. I try to catch a few rays, as if they were something rare and precious. A little light, a little vitamin D, a quiet reminder that life is slowly waking up again. This winter has been quite gentle. It brought moments of snow and frost, revealing a kind of raw beauty I hadn't seen in a long time. I decided to visit the meadow where I gathered tansy last summer. It looks completely different now. The dried flower heads are still standing above the grass. It's hard to believe that not so long ago they were bright yellow, and I was walking home holding a whole bouquet in my hands. I miss that. The green, the warmth, the soft abundance of summer. I can't wait for the world to turn my favorite color again. But this slower season has its gifts too. It's a time of focus, of inner work. In the summertime it would be almost impossible to make me sit down and write my thesis. Now it feels like the right moment to immerse myself in books and in the creative process. I love writing. I keep a journal. I write down thoughts and reflections, whatever feels ready to be expressed. Academic writing is more challenging for me. It feels less intuitive, more structured, sometimes even restrictive. And yet the subject I am exploring genuinely fascinates me. I treat this thesis as condensed knowledge, a foundation for what I hope will become part of my future practice. I am writing about sound therapy, about the way sound can influence the human body, especially when it comes to reducing stress and anxiety. This is something I have personal experience with. Sometimes what we have struggled with ourselves ends up guiding us in a completely new direction. I deeply believe in a holistic approach to health and well-being. Maybe that's why I naturally moved toward naturopathy. Or maybe quite literally nature led me there. Even though the landscape is still resting and no herbs are blooming yet, there are still things that can be gathered. Until early spring you can collect black alder cones. They are rich in tannins, which gives them strong astringent and anti-inflammatory properties. Traditionally they were used for digestive issues. A decoction made from the cones also has antibacterial and soothing effects. When used externally it can be applied as a wash or compress for minor skin inflammations, small wounds or irritations. Because the cones are quite hard, a decoction is the best way to extract their active compounds. I brought some alder cones back home. Maybe one day I will use them for myself or to support someone in need. It's important to collect them directly from the branches rather than from the ground. They should be firm and well preserved. These past weeks have been teaching me patience and reminding me that even in times of apparent stillness something is quietly unfolding beneath the surface. I wonder what will come out of it this spring. For now I will let things unfold in their own time.